


As The World Falls Down

by kcstories



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: rarepair_shorts, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-04
Updated: 2008-04-04
Packaged: 2018-07-21 23:49:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7410037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kcstories/pseuds/kcstories
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It’s just a matter of minutes now—seconds—before the whole building will be in ruins, the once stately castle reduced to a pile of worthless rubble."</p>
            </blockquote>





	As The World Falls Down

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings:** AU-ish. Minor angst.  
>  **A/N:** The Potterverse is JKR's, not mine.

It’s just a matter of minutes now—seconds—before the whole building will be in ruins, the once stately castle reduced to a pile of worthless rubble.

Shivering, you sink down to the ground and hug your knees close to your chest.

You’re barely seventeen. It doesn’t seem fair somehow. The story wasn’t supposed to end like this.

The Dark Lord would win this war and restore the wizarding world to its former glory.

It suddenly hits you that no one ever told you what that glory entailed exactly. You never thought to ask either, but maybe you should have done.

You have no valid excuse for your wilful ignorance, except perhaps that you were desperate to believe and yearned to belong, to be one of those… better, _privileged_ people.

So you shoved all critical thought aside, and that was only the first of many mistakes.

In the end, self-preservation comes before pride. Every self-respecting Slytherin knows as much, and when all is said and done, there will always be denial to fall back on.

You grit your teeth and you shake your head wearily. Just how could you have been this stupid?

Even Draco switched sides, admitted he was wrong—not in so many words, of course, but his actions spoke for themselves. He’ll probably get some kind of reprimand, a proverbial slap on the wrist, and his father might be sent back to Azkaban, but at least they’ll live.

They will both live.

You force yourself not to cry as you consider the opportunities you missed, the friends you could have made and all those things you could have done—wanted to do—before you died.

But you chose the wrong side, and soon it will all be over.

You’ll die here, all alone. You fled the heat of the battle and wound up trapped in some long-abandoned room that’s slowly falling apart.

In hindsight, you probably weren’t the smartest of Slytherins.

Not that any of that is still of any importance now. You’re stuck in a small confined space, and you’re fast running out of oxygen.

It’s just a matter of time.

Time.

You once thought you had loads of it at your disposal. Now it’s merely a matter of hours, minutes... Every second counts. Except it doesn’t and this will be over soon.

You wonder if you’ll see Dumbledore again, or Cedric Diggory, or anyone, really.

You wonder whether you should be scared.

You’re not—not _terribly_ , but you are disappointed, mainly in yourself.

Startled, you leap up, almost banging your head against what used to be the ceiling. You distinctly heard it: a loud crash in the nearby distance.

Are they coming to get you, after all? Will you be arrested as well? And if you are, is such a fate kinder than death?

You don’t have time to ponder on this question for very long. A large hole appears in the wall in front of you. A chubby hand reaches through it.

You catch a glimpse of kind brown eyes you don’t recognise as belonging to someone heroic.

Yet here he is.

“L-Longbottom?” you manage, your voice hoarse from lack of use.

He squints at you in the half-light. “Pansy Parkinson?”

“Yes,” you say.

“Is anyone else in there?”

“No.” You sigh. “Just me.”

“Right. Do you reckon you can move?”

You nod and just in case he can’t see you properly, you add, “I’m fine. Not hurt at all.”

“Come on then.” He reaches his hand out even further, clearly waiting for you to grasp it. “I have to get you out of here. This whole wing is about to collapse at any minute."

“Right. So you can have me arrested?” You don’t know why you snap at him, but you’ll blame it on panic afterwards.

He shakes his head and replies firmly, “No, I just want you to be safe.”

The sheer simplicity of that statement almost makes you laugh, but you don’t in the end. He looks dead serious.

You don’t know why you believe him, but you do, and you don’t trust him—not quite yet—but as he leads you to safety, you feel something well up in your chest that’s scary, exciting and slightly foreign.

In the clear light of day you recognise it as hope.


End file.
